Silver Better than Gold
by madisoninthemargin
Summary: Yuri Katsuki had never in his life wanted to kiss silver. That is, he'd never wanted to kiss silver until he'd started skating in the same circuit as one silver-haired Russian, Viktor Nikiforov. Of course he was handsome, and perhaps that was part of the reason Yuri wanted so badly to get to know him, but more than anything, the man was entrancing on the ice.


"What are you doing? I told you not to read those." Yuri looks up from his bench to find Celestino's disapproving gaze fixed on him.

"What else am I supposed to do?" Yuri shoots back, the article having soured his mood.

 _Katsuki's performance, while flawless, tastes of bitter repetition and a loss of inspiration._

"Don't read it. It's not hard, Yuri. Come on, you've got one last interview to do." Celestino turns on his heels and walks down the hall towards the waiting reporters in the lobby.

 _I lost my passion a long time ago._ Yuri thinks. _The only difference is that they're catching on now._

He steps into the brightly lit lobby and is immediately surrounded by reporters, shouting questions at him in every language imaginable.

 _Something's gotta change._

After his final interview of the Grand Prix series, Yuri finds himself seeking a moment of silence in the men's bathroom. He stands with his hands braced on the sink, breathing deeply and counting backwards from 100. These kind of big ticket events - and the cutting questions of the reporters afterwards - always tested the potency of Yuri's anxiety medication and the coping techniques he'd been taught as a child. The level of perfection that he'd reached didn't come easily, and it didn't come without its fair share of detriments.

"Hey."

Yuri started at the loud intrusion. He glanced up, looking behind himself through the mirror. Behind Yuri stood the junior gold medalist, Yuri Plisetsky. Yuri had watched his performance, and there was no denying that Yuri Plisetsky was both remarkably gifted and remarkably bored in the junior division. Yuri had a feeling that the young Russian would shake the skating world the next year when he made his senior debut.

"I'll be competing in the senior division next year. Maybe it's time for you to retire." He said, pointing an accusatory finger at Yuri. Yuri turned to face the youth. "I doubt that we need two Yuris in the same bracket."

"You did well tonight," Yuri smiled, half condescension and half genuine kindness at the Russian Punk. "But I think your step sequence could use a little work."

Plisetsky's hands tighten to fists and snarls a 'loser' at Yuri before stomping from the men's room. Yuri watches him go, and sighs before following him out.

He steps out to find that there is much less activity than before. He breathes a sigh of relief. His eyes find Yuri, getting yelled at by his coach in rapid Russian, and Viktor standing next to him, smiling as always.

"You want a picture? It'll last longer." Russian Yuri shouts at him. Viktor and their coach - Yakov, Yuri thinks - turns to face him.

"Sure," Yuri says, partly to save face but partly to get closer to Viktor.

"Bah, you idiot." Russian Yuri shouts and storms away. Yakov goes after him, chastising him again. Yuri is left with Viktor.

"Smile," Yuri commands, putting his arm around the taller man's waist, letting his hand fall a little lower than what was considered proper. He holds up his phone for a selfie and snaps a few photos before releasing the other skater. "See you at the banquet." Yuri winks and leaves a blushing Russian behind him.

Yuri considers sending the picture to Phichit, but decides against it. He wants to keep Viktor to himself, even if it is just a photo. He tucks his phone away and finds Celestino, who leads him out of the venue and back to the hotel.

There, Yuri takes a hot shower, letting the hot water rid his body of the tension that comes with competitions. He emerges from the steam and wraps the towel around his waist. He sits on his bed and checks his phone, replying to the many messages of congratulations, and replying to his parents, Minako, and Yuuko. When he's done, he pulls up the selfie again, admiring the shock on Viktor's face.

It's undeniable that they look good together, complement each other, light and dark.

Yuri's phone begins to ring, breaking him out of his thoughts. He answers it.

"Hello?"

"Congrats, Yuri!" Phichit shouts from the other end. Yuri holds the phone away from his ear.

"Why did you call? I can hear you shout all the way from Detroit." Yuri jokes, putting the phone on speaker so that he can get ready for the banquet.

"Ouch, best friend, that hurts," Phichit says. "But since you're clearly not interested in my sincere congratulations, let's talk about poor Viktor Nikiforov."

"Phichit," Yuri starts, knowing where this conversation was likely to go.

"Maybe he'll give you a congratulatory kiss and you can console him with a sympathy fu-"

"Phichit, no." Yuri cuts him off. "I like Viktor ok, but nothing is ever going to happen. He's not interested."

"Yuri, you're a five-time Grand Prix gold medalist, you're rich, you're hot," Phichit countered. "You're a fucking catch and if Viktor can't see that, he's a prick."

"Phichit," Yuri starts as he fastens his tie. A knock on the door interrupts him and he checks his watch, seeing that it's time to leave. "I've got to go, Ciao Ciao is banging at my door."

"Have a drink for me at the banquet!" Phichit says emphatically.

"You've seen me drunk." Yuri deadpans. Phichit is silent for a moment.

"Have two drinks for me."

"Goodbye, Phichit." Yuri says and ends the call before Phichit can say anything in response. He shoves his phone into his pocket along with his room key and opens the door to a grumpy coach.

"About time," he says. Yuri rolls his eyes and follows the man down the lobby where they get into a waiting car.

Yuri takes deep calming breathes, looking out the window, watching Sochi pass by them. He mentally prepares himself for the onslaught of human contact he'll get at the party. He wishes that he could just stay in his hotel room.

He'd be lying if he said that his funk only started after he'd read the negative articles about himself earlier in the day. The truth is, he's been feeling like something was missing from his career for a long time, and he wasn't sure that he'd find the answer to his missing inspiration surrounded by other skaters who were all, in essence, just chasing him.

He sighs as the car slows and pulls to a stop by a curb a few blocks later. They could have walked, in all honesty. He and Celestino exit the car and drop their coats at the coat check.

"Yuri," Celestino says when the enter the main room. He flags down a waitress and grabs two glasses of champagne. "You've worked hard this year, cut yourself some slack tonight, have fun." He shoves one of the glasses into Yuri's hand. Yuri looks from the bubbling liquid to his coach before clinking their glasses together and draining his glass in one swallow.

Yuri sets the glass down on a table, and tells himself that he won't drink anymore that night, and that really he only did it to appease his coach anyway. He makes his rounds, talking to skaters and coaches, shaking hands and smiling, and all the while, even if he won't even admit it to himself, keeping an eye out for Viktor Nikiforov.

He's having a boring conversation with a boring set of pairs skaters when he notices the door open and Viktor Nikiforov entering the room, Yakov and other Yuri and an attractive red headed woman behind him.

Yuri excuses himself from the pair and moves around the edge of the room, his eyes never leaving Viktor. Maybe Phichit had been right, maybe it was time that he made a move and see if Viktor reciprocated. Yuri grabs another glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

Maybe Viktor can help him out of his mid-career funk.

He downs the drink and moves onto the dance floor, making sure he's in Viktor's line of sight, beginning to move his hips in time to the beat.

The next few month's drag in an unending cycle of gold medals and a stunning emptiness that accompanied each one. He doesn't see Viktor at any more competitions. Apparently, the Russian tanked the national competition, meaning he missed out on qualifying for the European Championships and Worlds.

When Yuri returns to Detroit, he has a long talk with Celestino about his career. At the end of that week, he packs all his things from his and Phichit's room and gave a tearful goodbye, walking away from Detroit for the last time. He returns to Hasetsu, glad that he can finally see his family and pay his respects to his recently deceased childhood dog.

When he arrives at the train station, there are posters everywhere, of his latest performance at world's, all the way back to when he'd first left Hasetsu for Detroit. As he put his ticket into the exit machine, he hears a familiar voice shouting his name.

"Yuri!" Minako shouts, holding a large sign with his name on it. The other people in the station begin to look their way and murmur. "Welcome home!"

"Thank you, Minako-sensei," Yuri says kindly and she gathers him into a tight hug. She gives him one last squeeze before pulling back and holding him at arm's length, looking him over.

"You've grown so much," She gushes. "Come on, everyone is waiting for you." Minako drags him out of the train station and babbles the entire way back to the onsen. Yuri only halfheartedly pays attention, preferring to watch the scenery of Hasetsu as it passed by them.

"It's quiet," Yuri observes. Minako makes a noise of agreement.

"Hardly any kids are taking ballet anymore, and even fewer are skating nowadays." She tells him. Yuri doesn't respond.

When they arrive at his family's inn he's engulfed in more hugs by his mother and his father. He apologizes for not visiting home more, or at all in the last five years.

"Don't worry about that now dear, you're home with us and that's all that matters." His mother assures him. She squeezes his arm lightly and tells him that he should go see Victor.

Yuri takes off his shoes before he enters the room and kneels in front of the picture of his beloved poodle.

"I'm sorry I couldn't see you one last time, Vicchan." He says quietly. He sits in silence for several moments, until he hears the door being pushed open. His sister, Mari enters the room. They exchange niceties and Mari leans against the wall, lighting a cigarette.

"So how long are you in Hasetsu for? Will you help with the hot spring?" She asks. Yuri cocks his head to the side.

"Where is this coming from?"

"You went to college, even though you had to study for an extra year, and rumor has it that you let Celestino go as your coach." She shrugs and takes a deep drag. "So, what are you going to do?" Yuri thinks for several moments, letting the thoughts roll around in his head.

"I don't know yet." He answers honestly. She looks at him, studying his face for a long few seconds.

"Okay," she says. "Go relax and soak in the bath." She suggests, as though the hot water would fix all of his problems. He relents though, because it's been years since he's been in the hot springs and not even the hottest hot tub can compare.

He sighs as he sinks deep down into the water, the steam dancing over his skin. He watches it, the way that it moves freely and without restraint, a beautiful expression of art and joy. That's what Yuri aspires to be like on the ice. It's what he _used_ to be like, until he hit the wall and coasted his way to gold. His figure skating had stopped being an expression of art a long time ago, and was really, truly, a competition to him, against himself to outdo his other scores.

He soaks until his fingers are pruny and his muscles are so loose he wonders if they'll be able to hold him upright. He dries himself off and pulls on his practice clothes. His mind his clearer than it has been in a long time, and he thinks that if he steps onto the ice, his love for it will come rushing back.

He shouts a goodbye to his family and begins a slow job to Ice Castle Hasetsu. He doesn't have to think about where he's going, his feet just know the way. When he arrives, he's short on breath and suddenly unsure of his decision to come so late in the day. Surely they'd be closed by now.

He enters the building anyway, and hears a voice call that their regular hours are over. He walks to the counter and waits for the person to turn around and notice him.

"Yuri!" Yuuko shouts when she finally puts away the skates in her hands. "How the heck are you? You came to skate, right? Go ahead," Yuuko rushes out in a single breath. Yuri chuckles internally, because Yuuko hasn't changed a bit.

"Are you sure?" He asks.

"Anything for the pride of Hasetsu," she assures him. "I'll protect you from all the screaming fans." She winks at him, and he thanks her.

 _It's no wonder I had a crush on her,_ Yuri thinks as he ties his skates, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. _She's as nice and cute as I remember._ As soon as that thought enters Yuri's mind, he's ambushed by the image of Viktor Nikiforov. Yuri shakes his head to clear the image and stands, entering the rink and skating laps to warm up his muscles again. He skates to Yuko, and hands her his glasses.

"I've been working on some new choreography, will you watch?" He asks her. She nods enthusiastically.

Yuri skates to the center of the rink and poses, taking a deep breath. This time, when Viktor's face rises in his mind he doesn't brush it away. Instead he supplements it with the few moments that he and Viktor have interacted, and a few fantasies that he's had, if he's being truthful.

Before he really realizes it, he's reached the end of his routine and is breathing heavily. He's broken from his thought's by Yuuko shouting about how amazing that was. Yuri smiles and skates to her, taking his glasses back.

"I thought you were done with skating?" She asks, incredulous.

"Competitively," Yuri supplies. "But I don't think I'll ever really be done with the ice." Suddenly, three faces pop over the barrier.

"Axel, Lutz, and Loop," Yuuko says brightly. "They've grown since you saw them last, huh?"

"Are you really Katsuki Yuri?"

"Wow, you're short in person!"

"I think Christophe Giacometti is better than you."

In all honesty, Yuri forgot that Yuuko was married with children. He feels a weight on his shoulders and turns his head slightly to see the father of the little hellions.

"Welcome back, Yuri." Nishigori greets, with all the volume Yuri remembered from childhood. Nishigori holds Yuri down and gives him a nuggie before releasing him. Yuri shakes his head and laughs good naturedly.

"The Nishigori family always has your back," Nishigori tells him as Yuri exits the building that night. Yuri thanks him and waves to the family as he begins the long run back to Yu-topia.

The next morning he sits in the main TV room, hair wet from his bath. He watches Yuri Plisetsky land a near perfect triple while the commentator talks about him gearing up to join the senior division. He catches a glimpse of Viktor as the camera cuts to Yuri from a different angle. Yuri's breath catches in his throat for an instant, until the camera pans away again.

He turns the TV off when his phone begins to ring. The screen reads 'Nishigori' and Yuri answers it, thinking he must have left something at the rink last night.

"I'm sorry, Yuri, my kids uploaded it and it went viral." He rushes.

"What?" Yuri questions. Just then, his phone dings with a notification and he sees that it's a message from the man on the other end of the line. In it is a link to a video titled "Unreleased Katsuki Yuri Routine."

"I'm sorry Yuri," Nishigori says again.

"It's all right, I've got to go." He hangs up the phone and opens the video link. He watches himself skate the new routine he'd shown Yuuko the night before. He watches himself intently until the video ends, and then he sets his phone aside and takes a deep breath. Sure, the routine is sound and all his quads nearly flawless, but it still looks like Yuri hates every second that he's on the ice.

"Yuri, why didn't you tell me about this, it's being retweeted everywhere!" Minako bursts through the door, shouting and waving her arms.

"Yuuko's girl uploaded it without my permission," is all he says in return. "It'll blow over in a few days, and besides, it's not like I'll be performing it in any competition anytime soon."

"Yeah, but Yuri, this is really good." Minako says. "I wish you'd reconsider your retirement."

"You retired early and at the peak of your career too," Yuri points out, if only to turn the conversation away from himself.

"Because of an injury," Minako says. "You've really got something special Yuri, don't just throw that away."

Yuri smiles kindly at her, and shakes his head slightly. Minako lets the subject drop as Yuri exits the room, leaving her to watch him go.

Several days later, Yuri's prediction came true. Almost all the buzz that had been generated from his video had died down, and nearly no one could recall who the skater Katsuki Yuri was.

He entered the onsen again, taking his boots off and breathing into his hands to warm them back up. He's been shoveling snow off the sidewalk for hours, and his muscles are screaming for a break. He drops his coat and gloves in his room and enters the hot spring.

He enters the hot water and sighs, finally letting his muscles relax. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Suddenly, from inside the inn he hears shouting and foot steps. He sits up straighter, trying to see what's going on when a dog bursts through the door and launches itself into the water with Yuri.

Yuri sputters and watches the dog swimming happily.

"Vicchan?"

The dog turns its attention on Yuri and barks before swimming to him and licking his face.

"You're so much bigger than Vicchan. Who are you?" Yuri wonders aloud, as though the dog can understand him.

"Makkachin!" A voice suddenly shouts. Yuri looks up, and standing at the open door, cheeks flushed and chest heaving as though he just ran a marathon is none other than Viktor Nikiforov.


End file.
